We Match
by Faisalliot
Summary: "All Isran could see was himself sitting there on the bed, staring vacantly as all the other kids got adopted by a loving family, and he was left there to rot. All he could see was himself, sitting there with a stony face, hiding a heart torn in two. He refused to let the kid become like him." In which Isran loses all semblance of self-control and adopts a child.
1. Chapter 1

**In which Grelod is dead because a certain Dragonborn may or may not have poisoned her and killed her. Grelod just so happens to die at just the right time. Hooray; Isran is finna adopt a kid. Sneak peak into the future of my story/series, Valor and Vanity.**

 **P.S, I picked the name Saar up from some fanfic I read awhile back. I cannot, for the life of me, remember what it was named nor what it was about. I just really liked the name. If any of y'all know a fic about an orc named Saar, I would appreciate you directing me to it.**

Isran sighed, batting away yet another thieving hand from his hip and glaring at the perpetrator with enough suppressed hatred to kill a small animal. The shifty guy's hands flew upwards in mock surrender and he backed off, laughing with his buddies. Riften was just as stickily hot and disgusting as he remembered, and perhaps a little more ripe with vagabonds than usual. He couldn't blame them much; everyone had to make a living somehow in a place as unforgiving as Skyrim, and Riften was a good place to start. That didn't stop them from being as annoying as all Oblivion. Shaking his head, Isran grumbled under his breath as he made his way towards the gem of Riften; the orphanage. And by gem, he meant the one of the biggest piles of shit in the city, save for the Ratway and Helga's Bunkhouse. He shivered a little at the mere thought of Helga; at least you could tell for yourself that the Ratway was no place to be. Helga's Bunkhouse was deceptively innocent; most people who stayed there didn't know that you were more likely to get date-raped by Helga than get a decent night's rest until it was too late. God, was he lucky to still have somehow maintained his virginity in the (thankfully brief) time he'd stayed there.

Isran waded through the marketplace crowd and touched his hip, relieved to still feel his gold pieces clinking in his pocket. He had to hand it to the Riften townfolk; some of them really were crafty pickpockets. Thankfully not crafty enough to wring any gold out of him. The wooden bridge creaked under his feet as he walked towards the orphanage, and he grimaced as it came into sight. He really wasn't looking forward to dealing with the utter cunt of a caretaker (if she could even be called that much), Grelod the Kind. Ha, Grelod _the Kind._ What kind of half-assed sick joke was that meant to be? He'd lived in the orphanage for a brief time after he'd left Hammerfell, since he'd been orphaned by those stupid fucking vampires. His fist tightened at the mere thought of vampires and he peered over his shoulder, scanning the crowd for any glowing, red-tinted eyes. He saw nothing, and sighed. Frowning, he turned his attention back towards the orphanage. He really didn't want to go in, but he had offered to go look in the orphanage for kids who were about to turn of age to direct to the Dawnguard for work. He wasn't one to shirk his duties, so here he was. At the time though, he had been pretty sure he could handle it, but now... if he was honest, he wasn't.

He was sure Grelod was going to be as much of an old bitch as he remembered, and he really didn't feel like flipping his shit when she inevitably made some sort of snide remark. He rubbed the darkened lines around his wrists, clenching his jaw as memories of that damnable closet came back. He tugged his sleeves down, crossing his arms. When he thought about it, he never really had liked dark, enclosed spaces much after he'd left for the Vigilants of Stendarr. It was of no matter anymore; those days were nearly a decade behind him. Or had it been a decade already? He couldn't tell anymore; the concept of time tended to escape him when he hadn't slept in nearly three days. Second thought, maybe he ought to have slept before dealing with Grelod; when he was a little rested he tended to be a little more agreeable than usual. He considered back-pedaling and getting a room at the Inn, but swept the idea away. He was probably going to end up throwing down with Grelod; it'd be a good idea to have some extra money to pay off the bounty he was sure to incur after this visit. Deciding he'd been standing in place for too long, (he probably looked like a moron) Isran forced his feet to move. Dread pooled in his stomach as he approached the surprisingly formidable door of the orphanage. He tried to swallow the feeling, but it persisted on lingering in the back of his mind. Frowning, he reached down for the doorknob and let the door swing open. The hinges squealed horribly as it opened, and he stared into the deceptively warm looking room. His legs felt stiff.

Shit, he _really_ should've made Celann do this.

Celann wasn't abused here. Celann would have no problem walking in here and looking for kids who were almost of age to try to cajole into joining the Dawnguard for a form of work after they became of age. Why had Durak thought this was a good idea in the first place? They were kids for Stendarr's sake; they'd probably be no better than vampire fodder! Swallowing thickly, he turned to close the door and power walk away when a head peeked around the corner. He sagged in relief when he saw it was only some random kid. The kid stared at him for a second before disappearing back into the room and yelling,

"Constance! There's a weird guy at the door!"

Weird guy? Oh, the kid was talking about him. Fuck. He couldn't just leave now, he'd look stupid! Wait, the kid had yelled for Constance, not Grelod. Constance was okay. Ah, Constance. The only part of the orphanage that had made it somewhat bearable. Constance stepped into the main area and peered at him in confusion.

"Thank you, Hroar." She called over her shoulder.

What the fuck kind of name was Hroar? Who hated their child enough to name them Hroar? _'Probably parents who leave their kids at orphanages, dumbass.'_ Isran spat at himself.

Looking a little creeped out by his lack of response, Constance tentatively asked, "Are you...here to adopt?"

Isran started a little, remembering he was standing like a weirdo in the doorway of an orphanage. What had she asked him? If he was going to adopt a kid? Shit, fuck, he kind of needed to answer that. _'Say something stupid!'_

Isran's tongue felt a little heavy as he croaked, "Y-Yes..."

 _'Fuck, not that!'_ Constance's eyes lit up with delight and she clasped her hands together. Fuck. He couldn't go back on that!

Constance hurried over and ushered him inside. "Oh, joy!" She eyed his odd expression and frowned. "You look ready to fall over. Are you alright?"

Isran pressed his lips in a line and heaved a shaky breath, looking around. "Sure. This place just...brings back some unpleasant memories."

Constance tilted her head. "Oh?" Her voice dropped low as she sympathetically asked, "Were you one of the kids here when Grelod was still around?"

Isran, with his mind a little occupied (mainly by a chorus of SHIT FUCK SHIT FUCK SHIT FUCK), only registered the bit where she asked if he had been an orphan and he nodded in assent.

Constance hummed in sympathy. "Y'know, you do look a little familiar. What's your name, hun?" Constance asked, startling him a little when she took his hand in hers and lightly stroked the dark marks that marred his wrists.

"I-Isran."

Constance's head shot up and she looked at Isran incredulously. "By the Gods! Is it truly? I remember you!" She smiled a little sadly. "You used to tick Grelod off so much. You didn't hear it from me, but I'm glad she's gone. I'm sure you already knew that, though. I bet you jumped for joy." She joked.

Isran's brain short-circuited. "She finally _died!?"_

Constance looked a little surprised. "Did you not catch that last bit I said earlier when I asked if you used to be orphan here?"

Isran opened and closed his mouth, feeling a load of tension whoosh out of him like a great gust of wind. "N-No, I was just a little distracted. She really is gone?"

Constance giggled quietly. "Thankfully, yes. I was half expecting her to burst from her grave and start wailing at the kids again, but she didn't. Deader than a doorknob."

Isran chuckled a little, pulling his hand from Constance's in favor of letting it rest on his head. "I'm usually more composed than this but damn...that woman is one of the only things that can scare the everloving Oblivion out of me. You're running the orphanage, then?"

Constance smiled brightly. "Yes. I've never seen these kids look happier."

Isran peered into the next room, looking at the kids. A handful of girls were participating in a braiding circle, two boys were wrestling while four others kids cheered them on, a couple boys and girls were sparring with wooden swords, and all of them were just generally having a good time. Except...one kid. An orcish child was sitting on a bed with his legs drawn up and he was staring at the wall vacantly.

"Grelod would lose her head if she saw this," Constance leaned on one hip, and smiled as she watched the children.

Isran couldn't tear his eyes away from the orcish child. He looked...familiar.

The kid looked over, and met his eyes. Isran wiggled his fingers a little to say hello, and the kid just listlessly looked back away, drawing his legs up tighter. Constance followed his gaze.

"Oh, that's just Saar."

"Saar?"

"Yeah. He's been here longer than all of these kids; he's the only one who was still around for Grelod. He arrived about six years ago, when he was seven years old. I don't think I ever saw him happier than on the day she kicked the bucket about four months ago. She was truly horrible to him, beating him for no actual reason and constantly insulting him, just because he's orcish. He's resilient, I'll give him that, but her torture has broken him down a little." Constance looked awfully sad as she said, "No one has wanted to adopt him because he's an orc, and they want a cute. affectionate kid. Most folk come in here wanting a kid who looks like them, and they don't want some 'ugly, distanced orc kid'. Y'know, some parents have even said that to his face! It's horrible, really."

Isran frowned deeply at that, feeling a surge of protectiveness wash over him. "They didn't know what they were talking about. He's very cute, in his own way, and if they bothered to even look below the surface, I'm sure he could be a very loving kid. I can't think of any kids I've met who hasn't loved someone or something. If they couldn't see that, they didn't deserve him." His fist tightened as he thought back on the days he lived in the orphanage, watching all of the potential parents passing him by without a second glance.

Constance looked rather moved by his words, and suddenly looked hopeful. "Maybe you'd like to adopt him? Just that alone proves to me that you'd be a good father, so that part is covered. Do you have anywhere a child could stay? A job?"

Isran's mind jumped to Fort Dawnguard and he grimaced. "Do you know about that crumbling ruin called Fort Dawnguard?"

Constance frowned. "On the outskirts of Skyrim, not far from Riften. Yeah, I know it. Why?"

"Well, it isn't crumbling anymore. I've been living there for awhile and I've been restoring it. I'm working on reopening the Dawnguard and enlisting more members to counteract the rise of the threat of vampires. I've got a good start, actually. I get commissioned often get rid of vampires, and since there are an abundance of those, I get pretty stable payments."

Constance looked rather impressed. "I'm normally not keen on letting mercenaries adopt kids, but you seen put together. You could definitely protect him too. You have my consent to adopt any of the kids in here, but are you ready now, or do you need time to think?"

Ah, yes. Thinking. That was probably a good thing to do before he went ahead and...adopted...a fucking _child..._ and became a _parent._

Holy shit, what the _fuck_ was he doing?!

He was a vampire hunter! A ever-loving, honest to Stendarr, _vampire hunter_ living in a crumbling ruin! Fort Dawnguard alone was such a dangerous place for a kid to live, and having a _vampire-hunting father_ made it at _least_ 14 times worse! And a kid would no doubt be very unhappy with a father who was really not good at talking about his feelings ( _'Shut up'_ ), generally being affectionate, nor just being a parent. He didn't even know the first thing about parenting!

Feeling a little bit like a cock, Isran stuttered out, "I-I'll need to think about it. Being a p-parent is no joke, and I don't know if I'm father material. I'd need to clean the place up a little more too, a-and..." Isran trailed off as he looked over at Saar.

From across the room, Saar scoffed and tucked his face into his knees.

Isran's heart flew up into his fucking throat. _Saar had been listening the whole damned time._ Thinking back on his words, Isran felt his chest _ache._ He had unknowingly been giving Saar hope. Hope that maybe someone gave enough of a shit about him to adopt him. And Isran was going back on that. Stendarr, there sitting on that bed was _him._ All Isran could see was himself sitting there, staring vacantly as all the other kids got adopted by a loving family, and everyone left him there to rot. All he could see was himself, sitting there with a stony face, hiding a heart torn in two.

He would _not_ let that kid become like him.

"Isran?" Constance prompted him gently.

Isran's eyes burned and he hurriedly blinked.

Part of him screamed 'No!' and the other half, the louder half, screamed 'Yes!' when he croaked, "Saar. Bring him over here."

"But you said you needed time to think-"

"Bring him...over here. Please."

Constance stared at him as she called Saar into the room with them. Slowly, Saar shuffled over.

"What did you need, miss?" Saar asked, avoiding Isran's gaze.

"This is one the people who used to be an orphan here. He's looking to adopt, and he asked to see you."

Saar crossed his arms protectively around his chest and hissed defensively, "I'm here now."

The underlying malice in his tone was drowned out by the hesitant hope beginning to shine in his eyes.

By Stendarr, the kid looked exactly like he used to.

"Look at me, kid." Isran asked, pushing as much gentleness in his voice as he could.

Saar looked at him. Isran looked down at his wrists, and then at Saar's. Same marks. He grabbed Saar's hand, making sure his own scars were visible, and he stroked a thumb over Saar's scars. Saar's breath caught.

"Do you...do you really want to adopt _me?"_

Isran's chest ached worse than it had before. "Maybe I do."

"Why? There are a bunch of other kids in there, kids who are better looking and happier than me. Why do you want _me?"_

Just like that, the last of Isran's self-control ebbed away.

"We match." Isran said simply despite his throat feeling awfully tight. "So...what do you say? Would you like to be my son?"

Saar bursting into tears right then and there and jumping into Isran's arms was answer enough. Isran would never, ever admit it to himself, but he was pretty sure he was crying too. He signed the papers an openly-sobbing Constance thrust into his hands, and made his way towards the Inn with Saar's hand with his.

 _Celann is going to fucking kill me, but this is worth it. It is so, so damn worth it._

Isran and Saar sat on the bed in the Inn.

"So..." Saar mumbled, turning towards Isran. "You hunt vampires? What made you decide you wanted to do that?"

Isran grimaced, patting Saar on the head. "Of all things to ask, you ask one of the hardest questions for me to answer."

Saar hunched his shoulders and meekly said, "Oh...sorry."

Isran rubbed his face, huffing a short laugh. "'s alright. The reason kind of relates to why I adopted you, in a very roundabout way."

Saar looked interested at this, and asked, "Tell me, then?"

"Yeah, sure. Constance mentioned that I used to be an orphan at Honorhall. She didn't mention why I ended up there."

"How?"

Isran frowned deeply and wrapped an arm around Saar. "I used to live in Hammerfell. I was a lot like the other kids at the Orphanage. I was happy, smile-y, and energetic. I lived in a small village with my four cousins, two aunts, one uncle, my maternal grandpa and paternal grandma, and my parents. All of us lived relatively peacefully. We weren't rich, we weren't poor. Just normal." Isran's eyes darkened as he said, "Normal, that it, until a mob of Molag Bal vampire cultists overran the village. I watched in terror as everyone I ever knew was murdered, and at the end I was knocked out and awoke as the only survivor. I still can't decide if the Gods thought I was important enough to keep alive, or hated me enough to put me through that."

Saar wrapped his arms around Isran and leaned his head on Isran's chest. Isran sighed, squeezing Saar's shoulder lightly.

"After that, I was sent to an Orphanage in Hammerfell. It was alright, but I was...different. No one wanted me because of my weird, broody nature. Eventually, that orphanage burned down and I was sent to Honorhall when I was...well, I can't have been any older than eleven. Say, how old are you, kid?"

"I'm thirteen." Saar reported.

Isran nodded. "I'll remember that. I lived in Honorhall until I became of age. I left the orphanage in search of the Vigilants of Stendarr, since I'd heard they hunt vampires. I wanted my revenge, so I figured that'd be a good place for me. I was wrong. They were all soft, too ill-prepared to face any real threat. I left the Vigil with my friend, Celann, when I was twenty-one. We fell out when I was twenty-three, but now we've made amends and since I was twenty-six, we've been rebuilding the Dawnguard and fighting those blood-sucking fiends."

"That's...really sad. I'm sorry you had to go through that." Saar sighed, tightening his arms around Isran ever so slightly.

"Thanks. I don't suppose you'd like to tell me what happened with your...?"

"It's fine. I don't remember them that well. We lived on a farm near Markarth. They were killed by the Forsworn while out hunting. That's all there was to it; I didn't even see it happen." Saar shrugged indifferently. "I was around five. How old were you?"

"Nine, I think."

Saar didn't say anything else and frowned. "Let's...move on from this. It's not good to brood about it. Why don't you tell me about you?"

"About me?"

"Yeah. What do you like to do, eat, drink..."

Isran frowned. "I've never really thought about that, actually."

Saar looked up at Isran with a bemused expression. "Is hunting vampires the only thing you do?"

"...Generally, yeah."

Saar huffed a breath, shaking his head. "There's got to be _something_ you do with yourself."

Isran wracked his brain and offered a couple of scraps. "Well, I like venison stew and boiled creme tarts. I like swimming, reading, and...that's it, I think. Wait, no. I practice restoration magic, and I can kind of do alchemy. I'm pretty shitty at it, though. I like shooting crossbows and sparring with my colleagues, and I like to drink water, mostly?"

"Do you drink anything other than water?"

"...I don't drink much. I'm a very stupid drunk."

"Okay, but if you had to drink, what would it be?"

"Why would I _have_ to drink?"

"Isran, c'mon."

Isran pondered for a moment, trying to figure out which alcoholic drink got him the least sloshed. "Uh...Honningbrew Mead, I guess."

"Are you a light-weight or something?"

"...Perhaps. Aren't you a little young to drink?"

Saar's cheeks darkened at that. "I don't drink often. Besides, the kids in Skyrim drink when they hit 10 anyway."

Isran chuckled at that. "Yeah, you've got me there, kid. I suppose it makes sense you drink, but I'm not condoning that. Drink water, it's better for you anyway."

"I will. If I was offered a drink, I just like ale."

"What do you like, anyway? I told you about me; I'd like to know more about my son."

Saar beamed at the use of the word 'Son' and gladly reported, "I like swimming and reading too, but I also like sparring a lot more than those. What can I say? I'm an orc. I like the same food as you, but I also like vegetables and fruit. I also kind of like to draw, but I'm pretty shitty at it."

"Huh. Most orcs I meet just like to beat the shit out of everything."

"Don't get me wrong, I love doing that, but I like reading and drawing too. What are you going to do, sue me?"

Isran barked a laugh, thumping Saar on the back. "Good point, kid." Isran sighed, keeping his hand on Saar's back. "Listen, I uh...I didn't actually come to the orphanage to adopt a kid. I won't lie, I adopted you because you reminded me of me. This was a total impulse thing. But I...don't regret it. If you'd told me yesterday I was going to adopt a kid, I might've hit you. But now that I have...it's, well, I-I really don't know how to explain this. I'm gonna warn you now. I don't think I'm parent material, shit, I don't know the first damned thing about raising a kid. But for you, I'm going to try, okay? I am always going to l-love you with all my heart. Cherish that L word right now, because don't count on me saying it often. I'm really not the best at being affectionate. Listen though, I might be a terrible dad, but I'm going to try my hardest to do it, I'll never expect you to call me 'Dad' if you don't want to, and I will always protect you. I'll never raise a hand against you, I will...okay, I _might_ yell at you, but only if you're being a shithead, and I will always love you for who you are. I don't care that you're an orc. I don't care that you might be a little distanced. I don't care if people think differently of you or me. You're my son now, and that's the only person you've got to be. Alright? Yeah, I'm kind of talking directly out of my ass right now, but I mean every word of this. Every word."

Saar didn't say anything for a very, very long time. Isran heaved a breath, shuffling Saar in his arms and rubbing Saar's back. _'Holy shit, am I shaking?'_

"...I love you too, Isran."

This time, Isran was willing to admit to himself he shed a couple tears right then and there.


	2. Chapter 2

**So, I've decided to continue this a little bit. Just because I never got over this idea.**

Consciousness returned to Isran rather slowly. He could feel minutes upon minutes dragging along, drawing him further into the day at the speed of molasses on the back of a snail. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes until he registered the suspicious weight held securely in his arms. It took him a solid minute for him to blearily realize there was a random child in his arms, and it was only after he loudly cursed that he remembered that yesterday he'd adopted a random orc kid because he couldn't get his shit together. The random orc kid in question, Saar, stirred and lifted his head, looking around in a sleepy haze. Isran felt Saar's left arm tense, and blew out an impressed breath. Saar had just woken up and was looking around to make sure there was no threat. Smart kid. He had a feeling he and Saar would have a lot in common, including the fact that they were apparently both left-handed.

"Go back to sleep, kid. Just me."

Saar stared at him dazedly for a long moment before letting his face fall back on Isran's chest, back to sleep in an instant. Despite Saar's little tusk stabbing into his right nipple, the wave of fatherly affection that washed over him was so startling it was enough to mentally bowl him over. Hot damn, he'd gotten attached to Saar really fast. Was this what is was like to be a parent? Sweet mother of Stendarr, he was a _parent._ An honest to Gods parent. The reality of that hit him like a horse-drawn carriage, and one million thoughts raced through his head at the speed of a dragon soaring through the sky. And yet, the first thought on his mind and no doubt the loudest was, _'I don't regret it at all'_. He'd never considered himself the nurturing sort, and he'd expressed this to Saar already, but the kid already liked him well enough. And he liked the kid too. No, that wasn't right. With a jolt, Isran realized the feeling in his chest was _love_. Holy shit. He loved something. He loved _someone._

Oh gods, what the fuck happened to him? Yesterday he was a hardened, callous motherfucker and here he was, swooning over his son.

His son.

 _HIS SON!_

What in the name of Oblivion had happened to him? Had Mara slapped him with the power of parental love? Oh Gods, she probably had. The Orphanage _was_ suspiciously close to the Temple of Mara. Saar shifted in Isran's arms, curling further towards him. He wriggled a bit and lifted his head up before laying it back down on Isran's shoulder, tucking his squashed nose into the junction between Isran's neck and shoulder, sighing contentedly. Isran froze and nearly choked on his own spit. Did that just happen? Did that _really_ just happen? _'Okay, you know what? Thank you, Mara, but also fuck you_.' Isran thought, slowly reaching over and stroking Saar's wiry black hair. _Fuck,_ Saar was cute. Why did he think Saar was cute!? Why did he think _anything_ was cute!? Saar reached up and wrapped an arm around Isran's left shoulder, and from that moment onwards Isran knew that if anyone so much as poked Saar with an ounce of ill-intent, he'd kill everyone in the room and then himself. Why? Because _fuck it._ Fuck it all, fuck it all into the depths of Oblivion. This was _his fucking son_ now, and the only person allowed to antagonize _his son_ was him.

With that vow on his mind, Isran closed his eyes, continuing to stroke Saar's hair. He stayed like that for what felt like hours until there was a knock on his door.

Instantly irritated by the interruption of his downtime, Isran could hardly keep the growl out of his voice as he called softly, "Come in."

The door cracked open and the voice of the Argonian Innkeeper called, "Are you decent?"

"Yeah."

She opened the door fully and her reptilian mouth curled into a grin at the sight of Saar held securely in Isran's arm.

"Now that's a sight you don't see in Riften often. A half-decent parent." She crooned as she shifted her weight onto one leg.

"Thanks, I think…" Isran trailed off, patting Saar's back absent-mindedly. "What do you want?"

"There's an Orc and a Breton downstairs, saying they know you."

Oh, fuck. Celann and Durak. No doubt they'd swung by to make sure he wasn't dead since he hadn't returned to the Fort the previous night, like he typically did. If anything, he was pretty sure they were expecting him to have gotten drunk off his ass and have spent the night in Riften, and were simply here to drag his hungover ass home. Or perhaps they thought he might've chased after some vampires and had come by the Inn to ask if the Innkeeper had heard anything about a very short and markedly pissed off Redguard man tearing off towards a couple mildly annoyed humanoids. Boy, were they going to be in for a surprise. The Argonian Innkeeper (Keerava? Was that it?) looked at him expectantly and with a jolt he realized she was waiting for a response.

"Uh, yeah. I know 'em. That should be Celann and Durak."

Keerava or whatever her name was nodded, her tail swaying. "Okay, good. That's the names they gave me. I'll send them up."

"Thanks."

He laid stiffly in bed. Upon Celann and Durak entering the room, he held Saar a little tighter. If they said what he was hoping they wouldn't, he'd fucking fight them. Celann immediately looked at Saar and slowly looked back up at Isran, stiff as a board and white as a sheet. He looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"What," Durak looked like Malacath himself had smote his family, "the _fuck_ is that?"

"A child, Durak. What, never seen one before? I thought you have like, four wives. Oh, wait. _Had._ " Isran snarked in response, daring Durak to say a word with his eyes.

Durak looked mildly affronted and went to retort, but fell silent as Celann held his hands up to his chest and breathed incredulously, " _What did you do!?"_

"I adopted a kid," Isran pulled up his chin and stared fixedly into Celann's eyes.

"Who the fuck are you, and what in the name of Malacath did you do with the Isran I know?" Durak demanded and crossed his arms tightly, making it obvious he wanted an explanation for Isran's sudden burst of impulsiveness.

Celann, obviously not as patient as Durak, threw his arms down and slammed his palm on the nearby dresser. "You had _one_ job, man! I sent you to the Orphanage to see if there were any older kids who'd need a place to go when they came of age, _not_ to adopt some random kid! Dammit! How are you going to take care of him!? You are the least fatherly person I know! This was a-!"

"-Celann, if you tell me this was a mistake I'm going to shove my foot so far up your ass that your large intestine becomes _your fucking trachea!_ " Isran snapped savagely and held Saar protectively towards himself, his eyes intense and unwavering on his decision.

And then Saar spoke, his voice a little muffled and certainly sleepy, "Damn, Isran. Creative."

Isran let out a rather undignified snort and squeezed Saar's shoulder. "Did I wake you up?"

"Mostly it was all the cursing between all of you. What've I missed?"

"They think I'm insane because I adopted you."

"Well, they aren't wrong."

"How so?"

"I'm the ugly orc kid that hates everyone."

"And I'm the angry Redguard dude who also hates everyone. What's your point? And no, you're not ugly. I think you're very handsome."

Saar stared up at him with wide-eyes for a long minute, a thoughtful frown on his face before he shook his head and laid his head back down. Seemed he had no proper response to that. With a frown, Isran realized Saar probably didn't believe him. Damn, first thing he had to do was to help Saar be a little more self-confident. Self-confidence, or feigned self-confidence was key; if you seemed put together, no one fucked with you.

"No, seriously, what happened to Isran? What've you done with him?" Previous frustration forgotten, Celann held his cheeks with either hand, staring at Isran in a state of utter disbelief.

"I'm a dad now and neither of you can stop me." Isran said resolutely. "That's all there is to it. Either you like it or you don't, I don't care. But nothing you say or do will ever make me regret this, much less take him back. If I ever do that, may the Gods strike me down where I stand."

"Okay, but _why_. Why did you do this?" Celann asked, leaning forward.

One word was enough to make what little color was left in Celann's face to drain away.

"Grelod."

Saar stiffened.

"Isn't she the previous caretaker of the orphans in Honorhall?" Durak looked between Celann and Isran, confused.

Durak's words ignored, Celann breathed, "Good Gods, is he one of _her_ kids?"

"The last one who hadn't been adopted yet. No one wanted him because _apparently_ he was too ugly. As if! He's very handsome to me. By the way, thanks for telling me she was dead. Oh, hold on. You didn't."

"Sorry about that." The ghostly look on Celann's face didn't fade. "She died three years ago. You mean to tell me that _no one_ has adopted him?"

"Not one. Constance told me that people would tell him he was too ugly to his face."

"I don't know what Grelod's significance is here, but people would tell him _that?_ To his face?" Durak looked horrified.

"Yeah." Saar said in a small voice, making Isran's heart ache just a little.

"I'll fucking kill them," Durak growled, trembling in barely suppressed rage. "Point me to them, kid, and I'll fuck them up."

"Not now," Isran sighed. "I think we should get back to the Fort and show Saar his new home first."

"That's a good idea." Celann nodded. "Let's go, Durak. We can beat up assholes later. Isran, we'll wait for you downstairs."

Isran nodded, patting Saar's back. "All your stuff is in your knapsack over there, right?"

"Yeah." Saar sat up, stretching his back and staring at the door in wonder.

"What're you looking at?"

"Holy shit…" Saar breathed. "I have a squad of dads now."

Isran choked back a laugh. Stoic. He was supposed to be stoic. He laughed anyway.

"Don't worry though, you're my favorite." Saar looked up at Isran, a huge, crooked grin on his face.

Since he was only in the presence of his _son_ (his heart fluttered warmly at the word), he matched the smile, ruffling Saar's hair.

"Ready to go home?"

The widening grin he received in response was enough of an answer for him. He pointedly ignored Celann and Durak's stunned glances as he walked all the way back to Fort Dawnguard with Saar's hand clasped securely in his.

"There's the canyon up ahead," Durak pointed to the seemingly solid rocky outcrop.

Saar quirked an eyebrow and peered at the rocks. "I don't see anything."

"Good. You aren't supposed to. First, look at this." Celann pointed to the Dawnguard symbol Isran had carved into a nearby tree. "If and when you see this, you're standing right in front of the canyon."

Isran took Saar by the shoulders and steered him towards the entrance to the cave that led into the canyon. Saar blew out a surprised whistle, huffing a shocked laugh.

"That's really well hidden."

"It's meant to be. Your dad's super paranoid, so he chose the most inconspicuous place to live." Celann explained briefly.

"I'm living in a cave?"

"Nah. We gotta go to the canyon; where we live is at the end of it. It's a little run down, but we've patched all the holes in the ceiling and walls. The only thing that needs cleaning is the inside. Don't worry though; there's no vermin in there. Isran makes sure there isn't obsessively." Durak nudged Celann, sharing a laugh at Isran's expense.

"Am I going to have to help clean up?" Saar asked, ducking his head on his way into the cave.

"Yeah, but it isn't difficult. Mostly, it's trying to fix the cracks and gouges in the stone and moving rubble and broken crap behind the Fort until we can either get a pyromancer to destroy it or figure out where else to put it. Nothing too bad, and we're not gonna make you work past your limit. Either way, you'll get the easy jobs, since you're a kid." Isran reassured Saar, knowing the kid had been thinking about the back-breaking labor Grelod had more than likely make him do.

"Sounds good, actually."

"Good. Any questions?"

"What're your rules?"

"...I'll just make a list or something. I can't be bothered with thinking of everything on the spot." At Saar's apprehensive glance, Isran hastily included, "Not to say there's going to be a lot of rules; there won't be. I just don't want to list stuff randomly and forget something important, yeah?"

Saar breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. "Yeah. Is that the end of the cave?" He pointed ahead at the light.

"Yep. We'll be in the canyon in a second, and after a few more minutes of walking you'll see the Fort. I think you'll like the canyon; it's pretty. You're welcome to roam all around the canyon as long as you come back to the fort by twilight. Don't leave the canyon unless I say you can, though. I don't want you getting hurt, got it?"

"That's fair. Got it."

Saar looked at the pond and the water gushing out of the glaciers above as they passed, his mouth agape. "Where does all that water go? The water that's falling into the pond." Saar pointed.

"I used to wonder that myself. Turns out that underneath the ice over there," Isran gestured towards the floating ice in the pond, "there's an underwater cave that the water travels through. It runs up the mountain and it eventually falls back down again. An endless cycle."

"Can I mess around in the pond?"

"Yeah, just don't track mud all over the Fort. And be careful; while it's actually a little warm in the shallows, further over by the ice is freezing. And before you ask, yes, there's more sources of water. I stumbled across a huge cave that I call Dead Drop Falls. It doubles as a washing area and, further in, a training area. Don't be freaked out by the name; if you actually fall, you'll just land in the water. The worst you'll get is a nasty bump on the head from somehow managing to land on a rock, which is a feat that not even Durak has managed yet." Isran explained, his eyes flickering to Durak.

"Oh, shut up. Just because my balance is... not great, doesn't mean that I'm so stupid I'll crack open my skull on a damned rock. Give me some credit." Durak grumbled moodily, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"I give credit where it's due, and since I've seen you topple into the water more often than not, I don't think it's due just yet." Isran snarked, exchanging a look with Celann, who tried to stifle a giggle.

"What is this, verbally-abuse-Durak day?"

"Maybe it ought to be." Saar quipped, earning a mirthful glance from Celann.

"Yeah, hit him where it hurts, kiddo." Celann nudged Saar, nearly knocking him over. "Oh shit, sorry. You're lighter than you look."

It was true; though Saar looked alright, Isran had the boy nestled on his chest all night and could say with certainly that he was little more than skin and bones. "We'll get some meat on your bones. Don't worry about it, squirt."

Saar looked vaguely offended at the name but said nothing, shaking his head. They rounded the curve on the path, and Saar stopped short.

Ah, and he had his first sight of Fort Dawnguard.

Saar stared at the gigantic structure before him with his mouth agape. He didn't even seem to hear Durak and Celann laughing at him, too focused on gaping at the veritable castle he was going to be living in.

"Isran, you said I was going to be living in a _Fort_ ," Saar breathed, turning wide eyes onto his adoptive father, "not a _castle!"_

"Do you like it?"

"Are you serious?" A goofy grin broke out on Saar's face. "I love it!"

It was impossible to not laugh at the childish joy on Saar's face as he darted towards the huge double doors, slamming them open as if they weighed nothing. Isran winced at the audible bang but couldn't keep the grin off his face as he faintly heard Saar yelling,

"THIS IS THE COOLEST PLACE EVER!"

"I don't know guys, I think he kind of likes it," Isran's shoulders shook as he spoke, the smile not leaving his face.

"Did you...did you just make a joke?" Durak peered at Isran with an odd look on his face.

"I did."

Celann shook his head, chuckling into his hand. "What the fuck happened to you, man? I leave you alone for a day and this is what returns to me." The mirth in his voice took the bite out of his words.

"I'm not sure. I'm just going to blame the Temple of Mara for being suspiciously close to the orphanage. I guess we should go inside before my son breaks his neck or something." Isran shrugged, missing Durak and Celann's incredulous faces as he walked towards the Fort.

"His _son!?"_ Celann hissed, exchanging a look with Durak.

"It's official; he's gone crazy." Durak whispered, stiffening as Isran turned back to them.

"Quit chattering and let's go."

* * *

Saar had settled in very nicely. He didn't really give a shit about how rundown the Fort looked from the inside in a general sense. He enjoyed living in the Fort and he loved messing around in the canyon. However, the only thing he seemed rather annoyed by was the mess the Fort had become and- much like Isran -could commonly be found feverishly cleaning something. Perhaps he was a neat freak; Isran was a bit of one himself. Because of the tidiness Grelod had enforced, Isran was always bothered by the smallest messes. So, one could imagine how much the Fort put him on edge sometimes. Saar seemed to share this feeling but generally seemed unperturbed, so Isran wasn't particularly worried. There was no doubt Saar was absolutely floored by the Fort though; he often commented on how cool it was. While Isran would find the marveling annoying from anyone else, he found it oddly endearing when it came from Saar.

All in all, being a dad was pretty fucking cool.

Sure, it was kind of strange to have a smaller person depend on you a lot, and it was even stranger that they unconditionally loved you and you felt the same. But the strangest thing of all was the utterly inane things your little person would do that would make your heart melt anyway. The heart that you, might Isran add, didn't even know you had. One of these inane occurrences was happening at the moment, in fact. Isran gazed down at Saar _(my son)_ with a hand held over his mouth. Somehow, Saar had managed to doze off by the lake and was sprawled in the grass, several baby foxes and a fully grown one nestled right next to him. If Isran had to guess, he'd say Saar had somehow managed to befriend the older fox and it's babies had done so by default. Either way, the sight before him was fucking crouched down and swept the hair from Saar's forehead, smiling softly as Saar leaned to his hand. The foxes stirred and hissed at him, but a stern look from Isran made them cower. Isran gently hooked his forearm beneath Saar's knees and tucked Saar's head in the crook of his elbow. Slowly, just to ensure Saar wouldn't wake, he lifted him up and walked steadily to the Fort.

He pointedly ignored Celann's softening face as he passed, and took the stairs one at a time, careful not to rock Saar too roughly. Isran noted with pleasure that Saar didn't feel so bony; on the contrary, he felt quite heavy. He nodded to Durak and walked down the hallway towards the room Saar had chosen as his and pushed open the door. He was glad he had oiled the hinges awhile back; otherwise the door would've creaked loudly. Taking advantage of his good balance, Isran leaned back and- standing on one foot -used his left foot to push aside Saar's blankets. Grunting a little as his back ached in protest to bending down, Isran laid Saar down on the mattress. Correcting Saar's head so his neck wouldn't ache later, he pulled up the innumerable blankets on Saar's bed around Saar's shoulders. Saar sure did like blankets; Isran couldn't blame him. Blankets were nice. Tucking Saar in, he smoothed back Saar's hair and smiled softly.

"Goodnight, Saar." Isran muttered, backing away from the bed.

Isran didn't think much of Saar stirring as he turned around and headed towards the door until a soft, "G'night, dad." hit his ears.

Isran's entire brain short-circuited. He whirled around to gaze incredulously at his son, who was looking at him with bleary, half-asleep eyes. Hardly daring to believe his own ears, Isran looked at Saar for a long moment. He was at a loss. What should he say?

"Sleep well. L-Love you." He stammered out.

"Love you too." Saar rolled over and nestled back into his blankets, saying nothing else.

Isran left the room and numbly closed to door as softly as he could with his shaking hands. Hurriedly, he swept down the hallway, not acknowledging Celann's concerned face as he passed. _Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Did that just happen!? Saar had just called me dad for the first time._ Isran didn't know if he should cry, laugh, or feel really, really good. So, he did all three. With the intensity of a fire rune exploding, he keeled over, laughing his ass off and in tears. Celann and Durak hurried over.

"Whoa, whoa! What happened, are you okay!?" Celann's face looked frantic as he asked, holding Isran's shoulder.

Isran could barely speak. He was just-

Just-!

So _happy!_

His chest felt like it was going to explode. Holy shit, was he dying? Was this normal?

"Isran, talk to me, dammit!"

Isran fell to his knees though he felt like he could fly. He lurched up and grabbed Celann and Durak by one shoulder each, staring at them both with a slightly hysterical grin on his face. "Guess _what!?"_

Celann and Durak looked between each other. "...What?" Durak asked.

Holy shit, he was going to pass out.

 _"He called me dad."_


End file.
